


Sun

by Yotsubadancesintherain5



Series: Fairytale/Supernatural [22]
Category: Super Mario & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ghosts, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-24
Updated: 2019-09-24
Packaged: 2020-10-27 07:15:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20756444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yotsubadancesintherain5/pseuds/Yotsubadancesintherain5
Summary: He was alone in this place for one thousand, one hundred and five days.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A companion piece to the nebulous AU [Moon](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10046264/chapters/22383380)

After Luigi’s death he was left with gaps in his memory, reaching out for someone that left. The reason for that person leaving was because of a mixture of love and grief, that much he did know.

“Please, don’t,” a voice sobbed in his memory, whatever was left of his heart ached. It was at his deathbed, there was more, but it was lost.

There was nothing for him to do; he was tied down to this now barren apartment. Nothing to pick up, nothing to turn the pages of, nothing to turn on, and the world outside was barred to him.

No one else arrived.

Luigi watched the world outside change. He counted the days and kept whatever memories he had left close.

On the one thousand, one hundred and fifth day someone else arrived.

Daisy tried to attack him, defend her new home, but was met with the supernatural instead.

She spoke with him, kept the salt and pepper stored away and said he was welcomed here.

It was the first time in a long time that he had any happiness.

\- 

In the beginning of fall, a few months as Daisy arrived, the first memory Luigi got back was when Daisy got to cleaning again and pulled out snacks from a cupboard.

He remembered a speech contest, when he was a kid. There wasn’t enough time to get a full meal so he and his brother got snacks to eat on the way. They were still late, ran to the hall the speech contest was held and Luigi nearly dropped his food.

Then Luigi joined the other kids and began trembling because he was finally there, it was going to happen and it was not going to go well. His brother encouraged him – “Just think that the audience is a pumpkin patch, you’ll do great.” – and it was so good to hear a happier version of his brother’s voice.

Looking back on this recovered memory he wasn’t sure what the language for the speech contest was – most likely his namesake’s language – but he certainly did not feel like a warrior on that stage. The pumpkins in the audience turned into haunted jack-o-lanterns. The words Luigi recited were like molasses and he struggled with the enunciation.

Somehow he got third place.

“What happened after that?” Daisy asked. The chip bag that triggered this memory was empty in her hands.

“I don’t know.”

She hummed. “Then we’ll just have to try everything to jog your memory. What kind of TV shows did you like?”

“Everything?” He thought of the haunted jack-o-lanterns and added, “Not horror.”

“All right.”

On the weekend they spent the evening channel-surfing on the bulky TV. Luigi was most drawn to a channel that played all kinds of drama shows, from all over the world.

“Do you like these?” he asked as one began.

Daisy looked up at the mournful opening credits.

“That’s just not my style.”

The actual show’s content was optimistic. It starred a girl that had fallen for her childhood friend.

At the commercial break Daisy asked him something.

“Do you think we would’ve been friends when you were alive?”

“I think so,” he said. “You would probably ask me to try everything.”

“Oh, for sure.”

The show resumed. The protagonist held out a locket hung on a golden string, a symbol of her childhood friend’s love for her.

“Do you think we would’ve dated?” Daisy teased, as the childhood friend kissed the protagonist.

He was too flustered to speak but that in itself was an answer.

And to his relief she didn’t say more; she turned her laughter to the drama because the protagonist was lost in one of her strange, whimsical fantasies.

-

The usage of a different language came up again a few days later, when the world outside was getting colder.

Daisy brought out a radio and put a CD in it; it crackled out various songs. Luigi stared at the different dials on the machine.

Daisy repeated a specific song two times.

It was a song in a different language, the singer soft and plaintive. She harmonized in-between the verses. It was achingly melancholic.

“Do you know what she is singing?” Luigi asked.

“Yeah. I used to listen to this all the time when I was little,” she replied. “Or when I was crying it would always cheer me up.”

She waited for the harmony to turn into a verse.

“It’s not a sad song,” she clarified. “It’s about finding your way.”

A verse sung out.

“If you don’t like this path you can retrace and go another way,” Daisy translated.

The final verse followed.

“See, look there. You found your way.”

Daisy restarted it so that she could translate the entire song for Luigi.

He wondered if he could have the option to find another path.


	2. Chapter 2

It started when Daisy came home one day with her shoulders slack and her head downwards. She managed a smile when he called out a greeting but it fell quickly.

Luigi waited as she cooked, for her to talk about a mishap at work or some distressing news but it never happened.

She was more animated as she ate but said no words about what she was feeling. The night went on and the days passed similarly. With each murky hour he had an idea of what this was about.

But just as quickly Daisy seemed to have found peace with her turmoil and entered home with a sunny demeanor. Luigi swallowed down his worry and didn’t push anything.

The peace crumbled not long after, because of a show they watched together.

It was a historical piece, one that Luigi couldn’t place the era of, and a character mourned his losses and wished to reparations to the dead.

“You let their spirits hang like stones on your broken neck,” his right-hand man sneered.

The music swelled dramatically as the screen turned to darkness. The TV blared out a cheerful commercial, ruining the moment.

He could feel Daisy bristle and she turned off the TV.

“Stupid,” she spat. “That’s stupid.”

“I’ve never heard anything like that,” he offered.

She had no usual interest for his opinion.

“It’s just stupid.”

“Why?”

“He has no idea what he’s talking about.”

“But he couldn’t know.”

She bit back something and substituted it for breathing out through her teeth. She got up, her back turned to him.

“That’s how I feel,” Luigi said, feeling as though he was teetering on the edge of the cliff. “I don’t want to hold you back.”

“If I were the ghost and you alive,” Daisy replied evenly, “then would you consider me a weight around your neck?”

“I wouldn’t.”

“Okay. Be nicer to yourself.” She turned around to give him a pointed look.

But stepping away from the cliff was just the same as falling over it; the former was just pretending that the problem didn’t exist.

“I’ve been thinking it, too,” he said, “I wouldn’t blame you or curse you, you can’t stay here forever – “

“I know!” she shouted. “I know, but I don’t care. I made my choice. I’m not gonna _leave_ you.”

A promise, a choice, like that was completely shocking. He couldn’t say what he wanted because she broke the silence.

“I need to be alone.”

Daisy walked to her room and shut the door.

He took to seriously study whatever was in front of him. The remote’s buttons were worn. There were twin antennas on the TV. The weathered carpet led to the tiles of the kitchen. He couldn’t shake off this worry even when he looked at a peaceful, scenic magnet on the fridge. He moved to the hallway.

At a loss of what to do, Luigi thought of the plaintive song and began to hum its tune. Luigi tried to replicate the lyrics but they stumbled out of his mouth.

After the fifth misspoken lyric Daisy’s door opened. She walked out, rubbed at her eyes, but she was grinning.

He trailed off the melody. She walked to him.

“That was lovely,” she said. “But I don’t know what you were saying.”

“I don’t think I was good at speaking different languages.”

“Oh,” she said. She smiled at him, alleviating his worry.

“Let me teach you,” Daisy said.

She sang it, a little off-key and the words perfect. He responded with imperfect words and a fine tune.

There were no apologies for how the other felt but an understanding was woven into the melody.

-

In time the autumn world outside was showered with light rain and he counted the droplets as they ran down the glass balcony door. Daisy looked cramped on the tiny balcony as she gathered up her laundry. The door slide open and she came in with the laundry.

“You put it out there so I’ll fold it,” she announced.

“Are you sure?”

“You might make my clothes neat and I can’t have that,” she teased.

She sat down with the basket and began to fold her clothes. It was repetitive motion and it was quiet.

“You know, my clothes were dancing in the wind before the rain started,” she said. “Looked like ghosts having a party. Want me to introduce you?”

He thought of a ghostly family, with an energetic ghost dog to weave around their legs and it was suddenly too sad to imagine. He chased away the possibilities of that scenario.

“Nice to meet you,” Luigi said to her folded clothes.

There was no answer from the fabrics.

“They must’ve moved on,” Daisy said, and suddenly clicked her teeth together.

“It’s okay,” Luigi said.

“So, then,” she said, like a threshold could be passed. “What do you think will happen when you move on?”

For a long time he never thought “when” was an option so he came up short.

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “I guess I go and talk with someone?”

“Death,” Daisy suggested. “The sisters of fates?”

He nodded. “All of them?”

“There’re only three, it shouldn’t take you that long.”

The cheerfulness turned downcast and her next question struggled to get out.

“Where do you think you will go? When your talk is over?”

“Hopefully somewhere nice!” he said lightly, an attempt to make her laugh.

It didn’t work.

She said nothing but there was a small, sad grin on her face.

“Let me try again,” he said, brighter. “Nice to meet you! I’m not scared of you.”

She lifted up a jacket and made whooshing noises as he tried to get a word in.

When the laundry was folded and put away, and then her dinner was done, the evening went on normally.

The drama they had watched ended and Luigi forlornly watched the credits roll for the last time.

“There’s a sequel,” she said, when the credits ended and she turned off the TV.

“Really?” He couldn’t stop the excited squeak in his voice.

“It won’t be for a while, they like to run reruns before a new show comes out,” she replied. “But there’s still that mystery novel to read.”

“I got to the part where it’s the flashback where Sarah wants to be a detective,” he said.

“At four? What a go-getter. It’s kinda amazing,” Daisy said. “I never knew what I wanted to be as a kid. Too many opportunities.”

“Maybe baker for me.”

“That’s cute,” she replied. “And cozy.”

“I wanted something,” she continued wistfully, “Something with sports.”

“But then life got in the way,” he filled in.

“Yeah. I mean what were my options?”

“Golf?”

“Oh, who likes _golf_?” Daisy asked, mischief in her voice. “You! You like everything.”

“Not scary stuff.”

“All right,” she conceded. “Not scary stuff.”

She chuckled and she stretched, her bones creaking.

“You never know when a door is gonna be slammed in your face.”

“Never heard it like that,” Luigi said.

“History teacher,” she said. “I hated it, then. But back then I loved ghost stories and history was like reading about ghosts. That’s what she told me.”

“Is that why you work at the archives?”

“Yeah. Got a reference.”

Luigi went through what memories he had of working or childhood dreams and spoke.

“I once accidentally deflated a soufflé cake.”

“It does that?” Daisy asked. “Was it still good?”

“It does. And it was.”

She looked at the time and got up from the couch.

“I have to get up early,” she said. “Good-night.”

“Good-night.”

She got up and walked but paused in the threshold of the hallway.

“Hey,” she said as she turned to face him. “Do you remember that old show?”

Luigi nodded and she seemed to gather herself.

“I never considered you a weight around my neck,” Daisy said. “You, it’s like this, it is –“

She made a frustrated noise and spoke without any reservations.

“You belong in my heart,” Daisy said.

“Thank you,” he said and in cumulative thanks his words went out of control. “I’d say the same to you, if you were the ghost. Now, now, too. You belong in mine, too.”

“I know you would,” she said, with a smile. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

-

After that, Daisy tried her hand at baking. She was going to make a small Bundt cake, enough to feed one person. She almost got ready to make two.

Luigi helped by reading off the instructions. That was all that she wanted, and in time the smell of lemon extract and sugar filled the room when she pulled the Bundt cake out.

It was crumbly and a little dry and the frosting was slightly burnt in some places.

“It’s good,” she declared when she took a bite.

“Are you saying that because I can’t eat it?” Luigi teased.

“Cheeky,” she replied. “I’ll make this into a ghost Bundt cake so you can see how good it is.”

It never happened but he appreciated the offer. A few weeks later the rain started again.

-

The rain was pelting, sharp, from what Luigi could see. He kept tapping his forefingers together as he looked out the window, worried for Daisy.

She had left the TV on, so that she wouldn’t have to rush when she came home to watch the good shows. In a roundabout way Luigi had a feeling it was because Daisy gave him the option to watch the shows she hated without him having to ask.

She said, once, that a lot of shows were only watched when someone was under the effects of over-the-counter medicine.

“That’s probably true,” he said to himself.

A wail came from the TV, the sort that jolted shock through him. A character pleaded to a bedside, “You wanted to see the parade, please don’t die.”

It was familiar, painfully familiar, it wasn’t the same but it sparked what had been lost for so long and why he had been tethered to this place.

An entire life’s worth of memories was crammed into his skull and his dying thoughts struck through.

“_I’ll go with you to see the gardens, I’ll get better, no, no, I don’t want to leave!_”

Luigi felt impossibly cold, frost crawling up the window and the TV’s screen turned to grey snow.

“No,” he said, “No, no, please, no.”

Frantic thoughts swirled around in his head.

“_Don’t make me leave her. Don’t, don’t, no, no.”_

He reached out to the window and wrote on the glass. It couldn’t encompass all of his gratitude but it was all that he could do. It was colder still.

Before the world disappeared from him completely Luigi thought once more, as if the plea would be enough.

“_Let me stay. I need to tell her I –_ “


	3. Chapter 3

When everything was engulfed by darkness the cold around and within him subsided and he reached out to the murkiness.

“I’m here,” Luigi said, and his voice did not echo. It was a strange thing to focus on.

“So you are,” a voice replied, and he whirled around. He could not find the source.

Luigi looked at his hands and saw that they were as ghostly as ever. A question surfaced in his mind.

“Are you…” he trailed off, as if asking someone if they were Death or a powerful force to be reckoned with was presumptuous.

“I just exist, in this moment, to see what happens in this world,” the voice replied.

There was a sound, a scribble of pencil on paper, and again Luigi looked for the sound.

“Are you fate? The strings of destiny?”

“I told you, I just exist,” the voice replied coolly.

“Sorry.”

Paper was torn from a notebook and Luigi looked upward. It seemed a good enough option as many.

“Can you tell me, then?” he asked. “Is Daisy okay, after I left?”

“_Why_ are you asking me when you already know the answer?” This response was reproachful, even though he had no choice in the matter.

Something painfully pulled in his chest.

“Then what about my brother?”

“He loves you. Misses you every day.” The voice had considerably softened.

“Then if Daisy and I – “

“He’s getting closure. So a random woman showing up out of the blue claiming to see his dead brother’s ghost wouldn’t help at all.”

“I – “

“You wanted to know that, didn’t you?” the voice asked.

“But you’re not destiny or the fates so how would you know?”

“General human reaction,” was the flat response.

“You’re right. I don’t know for sure. That’s just the gamble,” the voice continued. “But he’s finding happiness again.”

The entirety of it set something into place, a missing piece that was returned, and he spoke.

“If it hurts him I don’t want to do it. I don’t want him to go through that again.”

The answer was met with silence and Luigi dared to speak again.

“If you can, please, tell him that I’m okay and I love him.”

“I can do that.”

He closed his mouth at the second request; that it was too much to ask.

The song hummed through his mind, Daisy’s voice in tune and his clumsy rendition alongside her.

“I don’t want to leave her,” Luigi said. “I want to go with her.”

“I can assume you don’t want to be tethered to anyone or any place.”

He nodded and briefly wondered if the voice could see the nod.

“If I _were _some ultimate power you’d be pushing your luck,” the voice said, breezily. “But you have your own power.”

He clasped his hands and brought up that sort of will. His thoughts, before he was brought here, were not desperate. They were the entirety of his wish. With each of them this place became brighter until it engulfed him.

“Thank you,” Luigi called out to the voice but he received no response.

-

Luigi was alone in the relative darkness but the place was familiar. He heard her voice in another room, down the hallway, and a strange pang of nostalgia went through him.

He moved across the room and looked down the hallway. Daisy stopped dead in her tracks.

It was silent, he could not speak, she raced to him, and her arms flung around him as best they could.

He reached to her, his arms around her back even if his arms were akin to air. He closed his eyes and all of his possible words swirled and crashed as he tried to find his voice.

“I missed you,” Luigi said softly.

“Mmhm,” Daisy replied shakily. “Missed you, too. Never forgot you.”

In time they would speak of where he had gone and how so many opportunities had branched out considerably.

But for now they were content to linger at the crossroad their paths had made.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading this.
> 
> I had a conversation with a friend.
> 
> Me: Hey, I have an idea that I'm trying to figure out. Would you like it if I wrote that Luigi/Daisy ghost story from the perspective of Luigi but with a happier ending -  
My friend: [SCREAMS](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gNoEumqV4cQ)  
Me: Got my answer right away, then.
> 
> So you have my friend to thank for cheering me on to write this companion piece with a happier ending.


End file.
